


A Simple Concept.

by Cliff



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Badass Sherlock, Bullying, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Sherlock Holmes, Protectiveness, Sexual Harassment, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliff/pseuds/Cliff
Summary: Someone at work has been harassing Molly. Sherlock is outraged. No one bullies Molly but him!
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set before "A Study in Pink". Originally written years ago for the Sherlock Comment Fic Meme. 
> 
> A possible explanation for why Molly puts up with Sherlock.

Sometimes Molly really had to drag herself to work. Today she felt as though she had concrete blocks on her feet. The hospital loomed in front of her like a waiting dragon and her stomach dropped.

It wasn't the work that bothered her. There wasn't much she hadn't seen when it came to the dead. Bodies ravaged by disease, bodies worn down by age, the horror of violence visible and stark on dead flesh. She took it in her stride. She had to, it was her job. 

The dead didn't disturb her anymore. It was he living she had a problem with... 

Well, not _all_ of them. She liked a couple of the girls at work, for all that she never actually spent time with them, she'd learned long ago that making friends was not her forte.

CI Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes… She wasn't sure if _like_ was the right word. She didn't appreciate the glee with which he appropriated body parts, for instance... Or the glee with which he used the cadavers for experiments... Or…Well... the glee he took in even being anywhere near the morgue really.

At first she'd been a little frightened by him, his dismissive, charmless manner and arrogant genius. His absolute honesty.

He'd see right through you and tell you all your darkest secrets right to your face… And anyone else that happened to be in the room of course (as of yesterday Chief Inspector Lestrade knew her weight, last date of menses and preferred brand of tampon.) 

In a way she almost appreciated that level of honesty. She had to hand it to Sherlock Holmes, he wouldn't stab you in the back... Just the face … And sometimes heart. But at least you could see it coming.

He'd cracked case after case, with her help too. Or at least she'd told herself that, and when he'd been pleased with something she'd done for him he'd flashed a smile and… Well… She wasn't used to being smiled at like that. It felt _real_. 

She tried to ask him out a while ago. At first she thought it had gone right over his head, but then she saw the way his eyes had narrowed and the way he'd grown colder, ruder and behaved like even more of an arsehole than usual for the rest of the week. She should have known she wouldn't be good enough. She was stupid to think it could work. 

Anyway it wasn't _him_ on her mind today. She approached the break room door to grab a coffee and found, disappointingly, it wasn't empty. A few nurses and all the guys from admin were using it. Garry Spence was one of them, she shuddered a little. He made her feel… _Small_. 

Not in the way Sherlock did, because she knew Sherlock made everyone feel that way. Spence made her feel like she had on her first day of school when older children had emptied her pencil case on the floor and stepped on her fingers when she went to retrieve them, and Teacher had just watched. 

They'd kissed at the office Christmas party, well… _He'd_ kissed her. It had been a long day, she'd had far too much to drink and had fallen asleep in a corner. Woken up with his tongue in her mouth. He was drunk too, it was nothing really. Except maybe… Maybe she hadn't pushed him off fast enough, hadn't made herself clear enough. Because now he resented her. 

She'd run into him in the corridor a few days later, suddenly gripped by an awful feeling of shame, she'd looked away from him as she walked by and distinctly heard him mutter "prick tease" just loud enough for her to hear.

He'd must've said something to his friends too, because when they saw her they'd smirk and whisper to each other and laugh. No, making friends was by no means her forte.

She sighed nervously and entered the break room. 


	2. Chapter 2

  
Sherlock felt that his morning trip to St. Bart's was taking a tedious amount of time. He needed fingers, for an experiment, and the morgue was still locked. He'd been forced to retire to the break room to wait for Molly to arrive.

It would have to be Molly, she was the only one willing to break the rules for him. He knew _why_ she did it of course, he didn't particularly like the fact, but there was no doubt her crush would come in handy for various reasons.

His reverie was interrupted by the arrival of several people, who gathered at the coffee machine at the far side of the room. Two of them were nurses, the others wore suits. Office workers, admin most likely. No… One of them worked in forensics. Two in admin, and two in the morgue.

One had a history of violence, two had drugs on them right now and one would go home tonight to a depressed wife and six week old baby girl. None of them was Molly...Clever, sad little Molly Hooper. The key to unlocking countless murder cases. Key to his much needed fingers. _Hurry up and arrive!_

Sure enough the door swung and she came in. Ten minutes late, flustered, cringing, vulnerable. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. The word _VICTIM_ plastered across her forehead. The word _DIFFERENT_ all over her like a prison tattoo.  
He cringed a little himself, if she wanted to exist in the world she would have to either toughen up or avoid other people...

She made him feel… Well that was the thing, she made him _feel_ something. Mycroft would have called it _sentiment_ , normal people would probably call it compassion or pity. For him it was something too close to fear and he chose to call it an inconvenience.

She hesitated for a moment, then made a beeline for the coffee machine. One of the men at the table closest to the machine got up and approached her from behind. He whispered something in her ear. She jumped out of her skin and yelped, much to the amusement of the man and his friends.

He knew the type, too arrogant to realize just how painfully stupid and flawed he was. Thought he was too god for his job, misogynist, drug problem, anger problem, narcissism, an ounce of coke in his breast pocket, Single… _I wonder why?_

Sherlock felt his hand suddenly shake, he was ready to get up and walk over to her when the man sat down again and went back to his conversation. _Good, you stay there you cretin._

Molly was flustered, to say the least. She moved swiftly away from proximity to the men, shaking so hard that she spilled most of her coffee over her hands. Sherlock, snapped his fingers at her. She looked up in surprise and something like relief crossed her face. He pointed at the chair opposite him.

When she sat down and got herself in some kind of order he offered her a handkerchief. She looked at him quizzically.

"You've spilled hot coffee all over yourself." He explained. "I would have thought the pain would be a clue."

"Mmmm." She murmured, wiping her hands and the front of her top. Distracted, tremor in the hands. _What did he say to her?_ " Molly." He began… " I need some fingers. 

She was already angry when she sat down, she was in no mood for this, especially after the way he'd treated her last week.

" And what makes you think I'd want to supply you with fingers?"

His eyes widened a little, actually visibly shocked that she'd stood up to him. She smiled inwardly at that.

"Molly." He sighed " It's for an important experiment pertaining to the Lowell- Barnes case."

She said nothing, sipping on what remained of her coffee silently. He got up and left the table. She was about to call him back when he returned, placing a full cup in front of her.

"Milk, no sugar?"

"Y…Yes." She could barely believe her eyes. _Did Sherlock Holmes really just bring me a cup of coffee?_

'"Please Molly?"

"O…Ok.." She stammered stupidly, too shocked to say anything else. _Stop it_ , she told herself. _You know exactly what he's doing, he just wants those bloody fingers._

He smiled then, her stomach flipped.

"Great! " He said, standing up. " Well? Lets go then."

He got up and she followed him, cup in hand. She didn't even notice Garry and his friends on the way out. He'd noticed _her_ though, sitting with that eccentric guy. The one who worked with the police.

Sherlock had been right of course, Garry was a stupid man. Too stupid for self analysis at any rate. He felt jealousy, anger, desire, a few other, darker things that he couldn't define...So he blamed them on someone else. On someone who'd made him feel rejected, who'd made him feel _wrong_.


	3. Chapter 3

The weekend passed by quickly, never enough time for her to do anything fun. she'd cleaned her house, done some laundry, called mum, then… Wham! Monday.

Autopsy, a man in his 30s, healthy. Well… Aside from being dead. The police would liaise on this one. She wondered if it was interesting enough for Sherlock to get involved.

The young man showed signs of necrotic tissue in the stomach. Poison? She took some samples and went down to pathology for a closer look.

She was so distracted she hadn't noticed Garry in the hall outside right away. He worked on her floor, it wasn't unusual for him to be around but he avoided her, most of the time... Not this time. He walked behind her, she could hear his shoes on the smooth floor.

She didn't look up, walked a little faster, so did he. Shitshitshit! She turned suddenly into the lab and slammed the door. She heard him laugh as he walked by. Leaning against it heavily, she realized that her entire body was shaking. Had that really just happened? She put her hands to her mouth, stifling a sob.

This was basic playground style intimidation and she was letting it get to her. She was also scared. The man was twice her size and clearly unbalanced… If that had been him… Had she seen him? Really?

Could this all be in her head?

There was sudden pressure on the outside of the door. She screamed and stumbled forward.

"Molly?"

It was Sherlock and C.I. Lestrade. They were there about the murder. They'd be very interested to learn about the necrosis and potential poison. She should tell them… She should…

Sherlock scanned her with his eyes. She could imagine how she must have looked, pale as a sheet, shaking, tearful.

"Molly? Whats wrong?"

He sounded… Angry? No… His hands were on her shoulders. "What happened?"

She leaned slightly on the desk.

"He… I … Um… Nothing. Nothing I'm fine." She swallowed convulsively. " I just... Spooked myself… S… Silly."

She fully expected him to mock her, but Sherlock said nothing more, observing quietly while Lestrade asked for details of the autopsy and Molly looked at the slides. Then he went to the microscope, confirming for himself what she had already said, poison. They exited then, leaving her to clean up.

Garry had been so quiet that she hadn't heard him come in until he was already blocking the doorway.

" Hi Molly."

His voice was surprisingly soft and deep. He'd have been attractive if it hadn't been for the look on his face. She froze to the spot, unable to reply.

"What are you doing down here all by yourself? I thought your cop buddies were here."

"They…" She cleared her throat. "They were just here… Collecting evidence…"

"But not any more." He cut her off, moving closer.

She shifted, moving back against the desk.

"Can I help you with something Garry?" She asked, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

"Oh yeah, of course you can." He smiled. " You can help me with a couple of things." He took a step closer … Too close, had the small of her back pressed against the edge of the desk. He placed one hand on either side of her, trapping her.

Part of her brain was screaming at her to remember the self defense workshop she'd done five years ago. Another part was laughing at the cheesy porn dialogue coming out of his mouth. The largest part of all was frozen in terror.

_What is he going to do to me?_

"N..No!" She shook her head firmly but her voice sounded tiny and ineffective...She hated herself... He smirked and leaned in. 

"I said NO!" She choked. 

The door opened abruptly.

"Molly! do you have th…"

It was Sherlock. His eyes narrowed. It took him a couple of seconds to survey the scene and draw a conclusion.

Garry jumped backwards, freeing her.

"Am I… Interrupting something?" Sherlock drawled. 

"No!" She gasped. Finding her voice. " No!"

"Molly, You are needed elsewhere." Sherlock said flatly, ignoring Garry. "Now." He said, grabbing her arm and pulling her bodily from the room.

He was grinding his teeth as he walked, she could hear it. His hand like a vice on her upper arm. He walked fast, pulling her into his side. Her shoes were sliding on the floor, her heart ponding like a jackhammer.

_What the hell just happened?_

They walked into the morgue. He slammed the door. All the tension she'd been holding in her body since the Christmas party snapped like a rubber band.

Then she was pressed into his chest. His arms tight around her.

"Shhhhh! You're allright, Your'e ok."

She cried into his shoulder. it was muffled by his scarf.

"I know, I know. It's over now, you're ok." He whispered.

He was rubbing her back, up and down her arms, as though trying to warm her. She realized that she was shaking.

He guided her to a plastic chair and pulled one out for himself so that he sat in front of her, his eyes never leaving her face. She turned away.

"Molly. " His voice was firm but not angry. He put a hand either side of her head. "Look at me"

She looked up, right into his steel grey eyes. _He's afraid._ She hadn't seen that in him before. Not ever. 

"Did he hurt you?"

"No." She breathed. "Didn't touch me….I … It's nothing….I just…"

"No." He stated, a sharp edge creeping into his voice. "Not _nothing_ Molly... How long has it been going on?"

"It was… My fault… Really… The Christmas party…"

"The Christmas party?" He sounded incredulous. "So he's been harassing you for _months_?"

She tried to explain about the party, drinking too much, and falling asleep, and the kiss and the feeling of his tongue in her mouth and how she didn't think she'd kiss anyone ever again… But it was garbled, and she was crying. Stupid, pathetic...

"Molly take a deep breath… Good… Now another… That's right…"

Her breathing became calmer. He nodded his head.

"Thats it. Good…Now. I want you to listen to me very carefully." He said "Can you do that?"

She nodded, He continued.

"The word 'No' is perhaps the simplest word in our language. It has two letters, it is one syllable. It is very easy to pronounce, in fact it is one of the first words many of us learn to say. I have it on good authority that it was my first word."

She smiled a little at that.

"Indeed, very young children, infants, understand its meaning. Dogs too, understand what the word 'No' means… Molly no matter what happened at the Christmas party, or before, or afterwards. I find it hard to believe that a grown man, even one as painfully stupid as…"

"Garry." She supplied.

"As Gerry…" He deliberately mis-pronounced the name. " Could possibly fail to grasp the meaning of the word No!" He raised his voice slightly, losing a little of his composure. "It's a very simple word, and concept, Molly!

She nodded.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." He rose and offered he his hand. She got up too, feeling steadier. They walked to the taxi rank together.

"Go home Molly Hooper, call in sick tomorrow, take a day off... Don't worry about it any more." He said as he hailed a cab.

She did as he suggested. Spent the day at home in bed, watching telly. Sleeping, without nightmares, for the first time in ages.

The next day she ventured into the break room, she couldn't see Garry or his mates anywhere. But the girls were talking by the coffee machine.

"Quit without a word of explanation… " Said Aileen. " Him and Frank and Joe and Garry… They just handed in resignation letters yesterday and walked out… Like a… Protest or something. I don't know why they'd do such a thing, I always thought the Admin blokes had a good deal…"

She smiled as she walked down to the morgue. Maybe she could put up with a bit of rudeness from time to time, and find some spare fingers and toes every now and then if it meant having a friend, of a sort, around here watching her back. 


End file.
